


and those things do best please me

by thatgothlibrarian



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, COULD BE READ AS DUBIOUS CONSENT BUT YOUR MILEAGE MAY VARY, Frottage, Hand Jobs, I will tag it anyway for people to filter, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Prostate Milking, Service Top Damen, Voyeurism, am i seriously the first person to write damen/pallas?, and i may have accidentally wrote laurent as being into cuckolding whoopsie, but like only for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgothlibrarian/pseuds/thatgothlibrarian
Summary: “Excuse me, Pallas?” A servant asked behind him, bowed slightly.“Yes?”“The Exalted requests your presence in his rooms in two hours.”Damianos had never asked this of him before. “Did he mention why?”“To congratulate you.”Everyone around them continued talking, oblivious to the interruption. King Laurent raised a toast for the champions, saying that they honor their kingdoms and their families.“And to Pallas! For lasting with the Exalted for three minutes this time, instead of two.” The table toasted as they all laughed, and Pallas felt a flush creep down his neck from attention. He turned back slightly to the messenger.“I’ll be there.~~~In which Laurent wants to recreate a story, and Pallas happens to be caught in the middle.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent/Pallas (Captive Prince), Damen/Pallas (Captive Prince), Lazar/Pallas (Captive Prince)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 109





	and those things do best please me

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this was "Fuckfest 9000," if that gives you any idea of what you're about to read. So strap in, folks.  
> This was inspired by two headcanons I've seen: the first, that Damen and the gladiator talked for most of those alleged seven hours, and second, that the gladiator was Pallas.  
> So, I thought, "Well, what if Laurent wants Damen to recreate the seven hours. But instead of with him, he has Damen do it with Pallas." Et voila, a fic idea was born.  
> About halfway through, I realized that I may have accidentally wrote Laurent having a cuckolding kink.  
> ~~~  
> The title comes from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Last night I watched that real gay production the Globe did in 2013, so right now i'm no thoughts head empty only shakespeare gay

_Then will two at once woo one;_ _  
__That must needs be sport alone;_ _  
__And those things do best please me_ _  
__That befal preposterously._ _  
__\- A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act III, scene ii_

King Damianos had Pallas pinned in the dirt, face down, in an arm bar lock that shot pain through his shoulder any time he moved. He tried to grab something, anything, on the king’s body, but their oil and sweat made that impossible. After a few more impotent seconds, he yielded. As the crowd went wild, Damianos stood up and offered Pallas a hand, clapping him on the back as they left the ring together.

“Good game, Pallas,” the Exalted said. He didn’t even sound out of breath. “It is always a pleasure to have you as an opponent.”

Pallas looked away, smiling. “The honor is, as always, mine, Exalted.” They scraped the gunk from their skin as the next event was set up. Pallas ran a cloth through his wild hair, then wet the cloth so he could drape it on the back of his neck. Damianos was already walking away, back towards the twin thrones on the dais, King Laurent fanning himself under the shade. Perhaps he had seen the Exalted win so many times that it had lost its appeal.

It never did for Pallas.

Even if he never beat King Damianos in the ring, the thrill of fighting him—as just two men, not a king and a soldier—never failed to bring him happiness.

As Pallas discarded the now-warm towel into a basket, he saw that King Laurent was looking at him, studying him. The Veretian king crossed his legs and Pallas swore he saw the hint of a smile.

* * *

As predicted, King Damianos and King Laurent tied in the okton, holding each other’s hand and lifting them high above their heads as they were crowned. They invited all participants in the games to join them for a celebratory feast, the champions invited to sit with them at their table. The feast was simply decadent: lamb with mint sauce, stuffed grape leaves, mussels and snails cooked in herbed butter and white wine, sweetmeats and finger foods of every variety. For dessert, the cooks prepared rice pudding with pumpkin seeds, figs, and a syrup infused with cardamom.Throughout, the two kings engaged the table in friendly conversation, making sure that all present were comfortable. Those who knew the kings more personally told jokes at their expense, teasing kings Damianos and Laurent about embarrassing events from their childhoods. Kyros Nikandros and Jord seemed to take particular delight in this.

Pallas was almost done with his dessert, and King Laurent had just started telling the table of a time when he and the late Prince Auguste were learning to hunt, and a squirrel startled Auguste so much he shot an arrow into the trunk of a tree. Pallas saw that he placed a hand on King Damianos’ back as he spoke, leaning into him slightly.

“Excuse me, Pallas?” A servant asked behind him, bowed slightly.

“Yes?”

“The Exalted requests your presence in his rooms in two hours.”

Damianos had never asked this of him before. “Did he mention why?”

“To congratulate you.”

Everyone around them continued talking, oblivious to the interruption. King Laurent raised a toast for the champions, saying that they honor their kingdoms and their families.

“And to Pallas! For lasting with the Exalted for three minutes this time, instead of two.” The table toasted as they all laughed, and Pallas felt a flush creep down his neck from attention. He turned back slightly to the messenger.

“I’ll be there.

* * *

Pallas made his way to the Exalted’s rooms. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He had fought with King Damianos, had a light camaraderie with him that some of the other soldiers didn’t. Besides Nikandros, though, he hadn’t heard of the king requesting any others to his rooms. Regardless, Pallas bathed and dressed himself in more formal attire. A guard stood outside the door when he arrived. It was not someone Pallas recognized, but the two kings had different retinues at all their residences.

“Speak your name and intent,” the guard said.

“Pallas, soldier. I was told King Damianos wanted to see me in his rooms at this time.”

The guard cocked his head at him but knocked on the door anyway.

“Come in!” Pallas heard King Laurent call from inside, and the guard pushed the door open and let Pallas into the room.

King Damianos was sitting on one of the couches, and King Laurent stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders and neck. It was obvious that this wasn’t simply utilitarian, however. Pallas could smell frankincense and sweet orange blossom, the breeze from outside wafting it to him through the open windows. Both kings were in informal clothing: Damianos in loose cloth pants and Laurent unshucked from his tight jacket in only a white shirt untucked from his pants. King Laurent’s hair was tied back, a few golden locks framing his face. And he was kissing the Exalted’s neck. Damianos, however, let out an audible, fond groan, and Pallas heard him mutter, “Dammit, will you ever not do that,” to the other king.

The guard announced him and left, leaving Pallas standing awkwardly a few feet inside.

“Pallas?” the Exalted asked. “Is everything alright?”

“I—,” Pallas spurted, “I was told you wanted to see me, Exalted.”

“Well, this is news to me. Who told you?” Pallas was about to answer him when King Laurent interrupted them.

“Pallas, thank you for coming,” Laurent consoled.

“…Exalted?” Pallas asked at the same time King Damianos asked, “Laurent?” King Laurent continued to massage Damianos, unfazed.

“You fought well today Pallas.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Damianos was looking back and forth at them, confused. “It is an honor.”

Laurent gave a small smile. “Every time I see you, you get better. How often do you practice?”

“Three hours a day, every day,” Pallas answered, proudly, “Your Majesty.”

“It shows.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

A slight pause, then, “Don’t feel bad about Damen besting you in such a short amount of time.”

Pallas chuckled. “I don’t, Your Majesty. Exalted. It’s an honor just to have the opportunity.” King Damianos was only looking at Laurent, brows knitted. King Laurent had a look about him that changed the atmosphere of the room.

“Much more experienced men than you haven’t lasted nearly as long with him,” Laurent mused. “In the ring, at least.”

The Exalted’s eyes widened.

King Laurent took no mind, continuing to knead his fingers into Damianos’ shoulders. “There’s a story I heard once,” he said, “probably exaggerated but fun nonetheless, of a famous gladiator.” Laurent looked up at nothing in particular, thinking hard. “Oh, what did they say his name was? Antreas? Artyom?”

“Andris,” Damianos swallowed, darting his eyes quickly to Pallas and then back to Laurent, who was still gazing off.

Pallas knew this story. Even before the unification, it was a popular tale told between men. Sometimes to poke fun at other men, sometimes to marvel. Pallas himself had told it a few times.

Understanding blossomed as all the pieces came together. He heard Damianos’ breath turning quick and shallow. Laurent looked over, and something about the way Pallas looked gave him away because Laurent’s expression changed instantly. Lazy unaffectedness morphed into mischief.

“Pallas, do you find the Exalted attractive?”

“Your Majesty?

“Answer me plainly. Don’t worry,” Laurent said, “nothing you say will upset me.”

Pallas searched Laurent’s face, searched Damianos’, and felt pinned down like a hare in a clearing. “Y-yes,” he choked out. “Yes, I do, Your Majesty.” He locked eyes with Damianos.

“And when you wrestle him?” Laurent continued. “How does it feel?”

Pallas started feeling hot. “It’s like being given a gift, Your Majesty. An honor, like I mentioned.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “No, not _that_ way. I mean, how does it feel to be held down by him, to feel his skin slide against yours,” Laurent started sliding his open palm down Damianos’ bare chest, “to feel his weight on you, your legs hooked over his arm or waist?”

“Laurent, this isn’t—”

“It’s intoxicating,” Pallas confessed, meeting Laurent’s gaze like accepting a challenge. “Dizzying. There’s so much power, so much control, you can’t help but yield to it. It feels…”

“Go on.”

“He feels safe.”

Laurent smiled, devilish, but there was recognition there, too. Pallas felt like he passed an unspoken test. “Have you thought about fucking him?”

The crude shift startled him. “I would never—”

“Let me rephrase. Do you ever think about Damianos fucking _you?”_ Silence hung heavy in the room. Pallas knew his brown skin was getting ruddy with embarrassment and arousal. Damianos sat frozen on the couch, grabbing the hand on his chest as if holding on against an unstoppable force.

“And how about you, lover,” Laurent whispered against the Exalted’s neck, just loud enough for Pallas to hear. He reached his other hand down and teased his fingers against the top of Damianos’ pants. But it wasn’t mischievous, like the rest of this inquisition. It was gentle and tender. “Pallas is right, by the way. That is how you feel.” It sounded honest and sweet, a vulnerable admission that seemed so out of place from what he knew about King Laurent. Pallas had interrupted them making love to each other before, and anyone could tell they were crazy about each other, but he had never expected this kind of intimacy between the two. Laurent hummed, breaking Pallas out of his shock, and nipping at Damianos' ear, said, “Surely I’m not the only person in the world you find attractive.”

Damianos gently pushed King Laurent away, but didn't let go of his hand. Pallas saw him thumb against the gold cuff on Laurent’s wrist. “You know I would never be unfaithful to you. Ever.”

“I know,” Laurent said, and it sat there between the two of them for a few moments. He cupped Damianos’ cheek. “But I repeat my question. When you have him in the dirt, his lean young body slick with oil, do you ever think about what it would be like to just,” Laurent dragged his thumb over the king's full lips as he continued, “push inside?”

“No,” the Exalted replied firmly.

And King Laurent, eyes sparkling as if he just realized he would win a game of chess long before it was over, accused, “…But you are now.”

Damianos stood up, moving Laurent’s hands off his body. “Laurent, stop. What are you doing. What is this,” he said, though never raising his voice. “Pallas, I’m sorry, you’re free to go. Forgive him.”

“Pallas, wait just—just a moment,” Laurent pleaded. “Please.” He moved between Damianos and Pallas, his body acting as a shield, or perhaps a safety net. Pallas heard them talking to each other, but couldn’t make out any words. But then he saw the Exalted put his hand on King Laurent’s hip, pulling Laurent against his body. They were talking, smiling, faces close together, stealing light kisses here and there. Pallas heard Damianos say, “Yeah?” and move his hand down to grab Laurent’s ass.

Pallas could not look away, even if he wanted to.

He heard Laurent say, “It’s okay, I promise. You’re so shy.” King Damianos’ face became visible when Laurent tilted his head to mouth at his collarbone, leaving soft kisses as he made his way up to his ear. He whispered, but still audible to Pallas, “I want this.”

The Exalted looked at Pallas. Pallas looked at the Exalted. He wasn’t expecting the king to look so vulnerable. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe for Damianos to devour him with his eyes, a king and his conquest. But no, instead of the promise of domination, Damianos looked at him with kind, newfound resolution, the hierarchy between them dissolving and transforming into something else entirely.

“Now, so Pallas can hear,” King Laurent began, raising his voice a little above a whisper and moving to the Exalted’s side, “I ask you: knowing that it will not upset me, do you want to fuck Pallas?” Not fuck _him_ but fuck _Pallas_ , as if it meant something, as if _he_ meant something.

The first step Damianos made towards Pallas burned a bridge, and any sort of solid ground beneath him fell away. What was only a few feet felt like miles until the king reached him. They were standing so close together. Damianos was so much bigger like this, so much more intimidating than when they wrestled or trained. But Damianos didn’t loom over him or crowd him, didn’t use his presence to threaten him. No, it was somehow heady and clear. Pallas didn’t even flinch when the king clapped a brotherly hand on his shoulder, didn’t gasp when the touch turned intimate.

King Damianos said, “Yes, I do.”

And it was the _way_ he said it, how it was clear that Damianos saw this as something they would share, that they would do together, that made up Pallas’ mind.

“Pallas, same question: knowing the Exalted has my blessing, and that you don’t have to—I want to be clear about that—do you want him to fuck you?”

Breathless, he answered, “Yes.”

Damianos dragged the knuckles of his other hand up Pallas’ arm, leaving goosebumps behind them. He grabbed his face in his large, calloused hand, and touched the corner of his mouth with his thumb. When the king closed the distance and kissed him, their lips barely touched, the gentlest kiss he had ever received. But even gentle, the kiss was not chaste. No, it was a promise of more. Damianos pulled away just enough to look Pallas in the eyes, the question about whether to continue evident.

It was Pallas who leaned up for their second kiss, shock and adrenaline keeping him from freezing. Eager, he ran his hands over Damianos’ ribs and back over his shoulder blades, the familiar firm muscles making him ache as he thought about how the king was going to use his strength. And it was the king who opened his mouth for Pallas, not the other way around. Not seeking entrance, but allowing it. As before, Pallas assumed the Exalted would claim him, but he was treating him as his equal. It wasn’t that Damianos was a cruel man or monarch, far from it, but the truth of the matter was that Pallas was beneath him. He expected Damianos to be rougher with him, not care so much about them both feeling pleasure.

“How does he taste?” Laurent inquired. Damianos had been so focused on Pallas that he forgot they weren’t alone.

The king licked into his mouth once more and moved to his neck, kissing it open-mouthed and wet. “He tastes like my teenage summers in Ios,” Damianos answered, without stopping what he was doing. His voice was low and warm. Pallas felt it vibrate against his chest and neck. “Getting drunk on spiced wines.” The Exalted moved a hand to his chest and touched a hard nipple through his shirt. “Touching another boy for the first time.” He said the last sentence almost as a whisper against his lips, as if he were saying it for Pallas alone.

Pallas whimpered. He couldn’t help it. “Exalted—”

“Pallas,” Damianos interrupted, “you can call me Damen.” He pulled back a bit and moved his hands to Pallas’ hips, a less overwhelming position, and gave Pallas a soft smile. “Please. If we do this, we do it as equals. If we can fight as equals, surely we can fuck as equals.” He brushed an unruly curl away that hung between Pallas’ eyes, and briefly kissed him again. “As just two men.”

“Besides, I imagine it only turns him on to be called Exalted when I do it.”

“Laurent!” Damianos—Damen, Pallas corrected himself—snapped back with wide eyes. The two were obviously teasing each other, impossibly fond. Damen touched his forehead to Pallas’ and closed his eyes, shying away from Laurent revealing their bedroom habits. Pallas dared to brush the tips of his fingers along Damen’s jawline, and Damen, defying all expectations, leaned every so slightly into the touch, taking a slow, deep breath and letting it out, as if Pallas comforted him.

“Okay,” Pallas said. He surged into the kiss, loosing all his passion and excitement. Damen groaned, softly, and gripped Pallas’ hips a bit tighter. “Okay, Damen.” Pallas let his smile grow wide and eager, and Damen gave him one in return, a dimple punctuating it. Their hands were holding each other’s faces now, laughing in between kisses.

“Damen, with your gladiator, how did you start?” Laurent asked and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of the couch.

Damen winked at Pallas and looked over at Laurent, catching on. “First, I kissed him and touched him, like this” he described and demonstrated by kissing and touching Pallas in turn, a narration. “I wanted to turn him on and feel how much I desired him, that he wasn’t there to be my cocksleeve for the night.” Pallas gasped at the word, not used to Damen being explicit.

Then the air was knocked out of Pallas’ lungs: Damen grabbed him and pushed him back against the door so quickly Pallas hadn’t had time to register it through the arousal fogging his thoughts.

“But,” Damen said, “I was young and hungry, high on my strength and prowess. I had beaten him. There was no way he could mistake who would be on top. I had shown him how slow and passionate I could be with him.” Damen grabbed a fistful of hair at the side of Pallas’ head, not rough enough to hurt, but enough to get his point across. “And I wanted him to know I could pin him down and fuck him so hard he wouldn’t be able to ride a horse for a week.” Pallas’ eyes fluttered closed. “I had been so distracted in the ring with him,” Damen growled hot in his ear. “One of the only times an opponent has had that effect on me. I felt like I was on the brink of coming the entire time.”

Laurent moved to a chair by the bed and sat, giving them a little privacy perhaps. Pallas missed his presence. Without him there, there was no mediation, no shield, nothing holding either of them back. Damen got a little rougher and his hands were everywhere, grabbing his ass, palming his erection. Pallas tried his best to reciprocate, but this was still his king. With each touch, he fought an internal battle: wanting so badly to give pleasure but so afraid to overstep. Damen was so hard against him, they both were, grinding into each other without thought.

Pallas knew how big Damen was. When they wrestled, they were naked, after all. And the time he had walked in on them about to fuck, Damen’s cock had been hanging down and looked like it could easily reach Laurent’s belly button. But there was a difference between seeing the size, intellectually processing the size, and _feeling_ the size. Pallas and King Laurent had similar builds and were almost the same height. Pallas was a little bulkier, but not by much. If Damen was that big in compared to Laurent—

“Then I—” Damen interrupted Pallas’ train of thought and literally ripped Pallas’ shirt off, “—got us both naked.” Pallas got the hint and worked at the front laces of Damen’s pants, and Damen tugged Pallas’ down. After some awkward bending and fumbling, they were freed of clothing. “So I could do this.” Damen actually spit in his own palm, the vulgarity making Pallas’ head spin, and wrapped his hand around both their cocks to bring them together.

Pallas just leaned back against the door and took it, unable to do anything but thrust himself in time with Damen. Damen put a hand on the door next to Pallas’ head and kissed him. “Look at me,” Damen said, not a command but an offer. The hand next to his head, the large body blocking him, the fixed gaze—Pallas had the sudden realization that Damen was creating a space just for them away from any prying eyes. His pleasure magnified exponentially at the thought, bringing him back down to a place where he was just a man sharing this with another man. Pallas moaned, smiling, only looking away from Damen for a moment to roll his eyes back. The aching lust in his belly was getting deeper, his hips snapping and rolling like they would to fuck into a mouth or ass. It wasn’t frenzied or quick, but it wasn’t gentle. The two of them fucked against each other into Damen’s hand. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t do more than whine or moan, trying to hold back because despite all this, he was still nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being watched—he and Lazar did that all the time—but he didn’t know how to feel about Laurent being the person watching him. What if King Laurent could hear? Would that be wrong?

Or, what if that was the point?

“I’m…” Pallas started to say and grabbed onto Damen’s bicep.

Damen smiled and huffed a shy laugh. “Me too,” he said and groaned as he came, eyes never looking away from Pallas. Pallas felt it, warm and thick, running over his own cock and getting on his stomach. Damen’s hand stopped for a moment to change his grip to grab onto Pallas only, stroking him until Pallas came with a shudder, the deep ache pushing his orgasm out with a final forceful thrust. They stayed frozen like that, breaths slowing down, for a moment, still looking at each other. Pallas placed a shaking hand on Damen’s stomach, and on his own, feeling their spend.

King Damianos had not fucked him. Damen and he had shared each other, taking and giving pleasure in equal amounts. Any nervousness and shyness melted away between them, the mood lighter now that they had crossed this boundary.

“That was,” Pallas started, still catching his breath.

“Yeah,” Damen agreed, equally breathless.

They melted into each other as they came down, resting their weight against the solid door behind them and unsuccessfully trying to kiss the air back into each other. Smiles. Light touches.

Laurent’s voice called from where he sat. “Alright, that was fifteen minutes. You have six hours and forty-five minutes to go.”

Pallas felt that amount of time stretch out in front of him. _Seven hours_ of Damen fucking him, of coming, of taking Damen into his body. His pulse quickened, the impossibility of being able to handle all that scaring him, the desire to do it drowning him. Pallas closed his eyes and looked away.

“Hey, look at me,” Damen said, guiding Pallas’ chin so they were facing each other again. He moved his palm so he could caress Pallas’ cheek with his thumb. “I’ll take care of you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“Exalted,” Pallas said.

Damen paused, thinking of what to say. Eventually, just for him and Pallas, he said, “You might have the impression that Laurent and I fuck like animals.” Pallas knit his brows together, a bit confused. “Sometimes we do, and believe me,” Damen continued, getting close enough to softly nuzzle their noses together, “you and I will once or twice tonight. But I’ve never hurt him,” he said as he pulled back. “He and I get close to that, every once in a while. But I have always been as careful as I can with him. I don’t enjoy talking about our intimacy like this with others, but I want you to know that I fuck him most days at least once, often both morning and night, and he is still able to walk and sit in miserable meetings for hours on end and ride a horse after.

I don’t fuck him to get off. I don’t fuck him because of how he looks. I fuck him because I love him. Because I’m absolutely crazy about him. I fuck him because I want to make him feel good, because he deserves that and then some. If I can do that for him, and share that with him, I want to do it as much as possible. And doing that with him makes me feel good, and _he_ makes me feel good, on top of everything else.

If I can do _that_ and not hurt him, I won’t hurt you. Tonight, I want to make you feel good, too.”

Pallas reached up and grabbed Damen’s hand on his cheek. He turned and kissed the palm, then brought it down so they were holding hands.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself and surrendering, and said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Damen, I know it doesn’t take you this long to get hard again!”

Damen rolled his eyes and smiled. “See what I mean?” and picked Pallas up with no warning, legs wrapped around his waist. Pallas felt his hips opening, his hole easily accessible.

“After taking the edge off, I took him to my bed,” Damen said, carrying Pallas across the room. He saw Laurent tucked up in the chair, looking up from his book as they passed him. Pallas blushed, embarrassed. He landed on the soft linens with an _oof!_ when Damen sat him down.

Pallas rose up on his elbows. Directly across from him, in the chair, was Laurent, who had his attention entirely on him. Damen got on the bed, crouched low enough that Pallas could still see Laurent over Damen’s head. Pallas looked between Damen and Laurent, and his thighs fell open, not sure which king he was spreading for.

Damen has been between his thighs before, in wrestling, and Pallas has been fucked by plenty of men. But this wasn’t wrestling. And this wasn’t just any man.

_This was King Damianos._

Pallas was more excited than he was shy. He felt like a slave about to be given his First Night by the Exalted. He felt like this might be the best fuck he’ll ever have in his life.

Damen settled between his legs and kissed him, pushing him down into the mattress. Pallas hitched a leg high onto Damen’s hip, reached his arms around his broad back, ran his fingers through the curls he’d always wanted to touch. Damen, Pallas was learning, was an incredible kisser, so good that he didn’t mind that they weren’t doing more. He was drunk on Damen’s attention to him, delighted by Damen’s reactions to his touches. Neither Pallas nor Damen were hard again yet, but that was okay. It still felt so, so good.

They parted for a breath, and Damen said, “Do you want to know how he and I lasted so long?”

Pallas and Laurent both said _How?_ at the same time. Damen looked back and forth between them before answering.

“Lots and lots of foreplay.” Damen started to move down Pallas’ body, kissing his neck and chest and stomach and lower until—

“I also made sure to make him come more than I did, especially when I was resting,” and touched his lips to Pallas' cock. “I got him hard again. Not rushing it, not forcing it. Just encouraging.” He kissed the skin on the inside of Pallas’ thighs, his lower stomach, the patch of hair, his hipbones, his balls. He wrapped his lips around the tip, barely sucking, coming to life again.

Damen continued like that, not pushing Pallas to any climax but touching him with his hands and mouth, sucking him and then stroking him, never speeding up. Damen started a slow bob up and down, wrapping his tongue around and hollowing his cheeks. Pallas gasped, squirming, when he felt Damen moan around his cock before taking it all the way in, pushing past the resistance into his throat, swallowing him.

He sat up again on his elbows and put his hand on Damen’s head. He looked at Laurent, who continued to sit in the chair looking unaffected, but watching nonetheless. Pallas let his eyes fall closed and started rolling his hips up into the heaven of Damen’s mouth. That ache in his belly fired up again, and his balls tightened.

“I’m close,” he warned. But Damen only hummed in the affirmative and kept going. Damen was—he was going to—

The thought _I am going to come into the mouth of the Exalted. King Damianos is going to swallow my come as King Laurent of Vere watches_ had barely formed in his head when his hips stuttered and stilled, a silent cry formed by his lips.

Pallas came so hard his ears rang.

He fell back onto the bedding, some part of his brain cognizant enough to notice that Damen was still kissing and touching around his legs and hips, as if to soothe him. He came back up and kissed Pallas, the taste of come on his tongue. Pallas moaned, still so turned on he thought he would die from it. Damen grabbed his hands and pushed them back, up over his head on the bed, and started a slow roll of his hips. Pallas stopped the kiss and opened his eyes. He looked down to watch their bodies shifting together. Damen was getting hard again and starting dragging himself over Pallas’ lower stomach. And, _fuck,_ it really was big enough to almost hit his bellybutton.

Never in his life did he think he would be in this position. Never did he think the Exalted would look at him with such fondness and desire. He never realized how badly he had actually always wanted this, his mind keeping him safe from the yearning until, miraculously, it happened.

“Damen,” Pallas breathed out, “Fuck me. I want to make you come.”

Damen groaned into his neck and weaved one of his arms under Pallas’ knee, hiking it up even more.

“One hour down,” Laurent announced as if he couldn’t care less, upsetting their course of action. Damen paused before untangling himself and sitting back up. Pallas looked at Laurent. His legs were closed, no longer resting open, and one of his hands clenched into a fist on the arm of the chair.

“Okay,” Damen said and dropped a hand onto Pallas’ knee. “Right. I knew this would be the peak of my stamina, so I couldn’t come again until I got inside him. I got oil,” he said in Laurent’s direction, who got up to get some for them. “He rolled over and spread his ass for me, I assume for me to take him roughly. Maybe that’s what he expected I did with everyone. Maybe that’s what he liked. Some men like the pain, I guess.” Pallas let out a trembling breath when Damen rolled him over and uncorked the vial with an audible _pop!_

Lazar liked the pain, begging Pallas to take him with only spit and a prayer. Pallas liked the pain, Lazar watching as other men fucked him too fast and too hard. He loved the way it felt when his body was forced open; it was amazing when done right. But Damen was bigger than anyone who had ever fucked him. The fear of being hurt, of being way over his head, returned. He didn’t know if he could do this.

Pallas choked when oil poured onto his crack and seeped over his hole, dripping obscenely onto the perfectly white bedsheets below him. He had the thought that they must go through bed linens so quickly that local weavers make enough coin to live comfortably, and then some, on their purchases alone. He looked back over his shoulder to see Damen up on his knees, holding the vial a few feet above Pallas. The liquid flowed out like honey. Damen’s cock jutted out, hard and erect enough to win against gravity. Damen grabbed Pallas’ hip with his free hand and pulled him back a bit, and the tip of his cock rubbed over the small pucker.

“Exalted, I don’t think I—”

Damen stopped. He leaned over Pallas and wrapped an arm around his chest. Pallas grabbed his hand tightly. “I’m not about to put my cock in you, but we can stop here if you want.” Pallas took a few breaths, remembering that even in the ring, Damen has never actually _hurt_ him. He remembered what he said about Laurent. He remembered how careful and considerate he had been so far.

“I’m fine. I just thought you were about to…” Pallas trailed off.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. And I won’t,” Damen finished for him, placing a kiss at the nape of his neck.

Pallas closed his eyes and smiled. “Okay. Keep going.”

Damen sat back up. “I told him I’m not like other men. If I were to just _take_ him, it wouldn’t just _hurt._ I would get rough with him, but I refused to actually wound him.” He grabbed Pallas and spread him open, just so. Pallas relaxed and arched his back, tilting his ass up for his king. Damianos promised not to hurt him. “I was going to make him come on my fingers first, and _only_ my fingers.”

Then two fingers breached him, immediately seeking his prostate. Pallas moaned, strained and fractured. Damen held his hips firmly in place as he started digging in. This wasn’t any sort of gentle preparation. This was milking. Pallas whined. It stung. It felt better than anything had ever felt before. Pallas pushed back, grinding his hips and fucking himself on Damen’s fingers, chasing release. They felt so big. His cock was still so sensitive but he craved touch. He moaned, almost sobbing, shamelessly into the sheets.

“Damen, please,” he begged, but he had no idea what he was begging for.

“I told him that, no matter how long it took, I would make him come like this.”

Pallas whined, _“Yes.”_

Damen took his fingers out and leaned over Pallas’ back. “It took him thirty minutes.”

Pallas muttered Akielon curses when Damen thrust his fingers back in and continued. He lost any semblance of time. His only thoughts were that it hurt, that it felt amazing, and that he needed to come but almost never wanted to. At some point, Damen stopped again to give Pallas a break. Laurent even brought them both water.

Because he already came twice that night, it took Pallas even longer than the gladiator. Eventually, blissfully, painfully, his climax took him, his semi-hard cock leaking in spurts. He didn’t even moan or scream, just bit the pillow that had been given to him, and his breath came out in a choked sob when his hips quivered forward, his back arching up like a cat’s.

“Damen, are you telling me it took you _two hours_ before you actually stuck your cock in him?” Laurent chided. “That’s cheating.”

“I might be able to fuck with the best of them, but I _am_ still a man. Had to pad it out somehow,” Damen explained, rubbing a hand over the small of Pallas’ back. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Laurent huffed. “You sure didn’t spend that long with _me_ our first time.”

Pallas felt Damen shift his weight. “It’s hard to take your time when you’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life, but you’re terrified you’re gonna fuck up so royally you get whipped for it. The less time spent, the less time there was to piss you off.”

“Careful, Damen. People still get weirded out about that.”

In their light teasing, they had left Pallas panting and trembling, still face-down with his ass in the air. He was too exhausted to move. None of this felt real. There was just still no way this was happening. But it was.

He didn’t know why it was happening, or how. He didn’t know why Laurent wanted this. He didn’t know why Damen agreed. He didn’t know why he was so turned on by it. And he didn’t know why he didn’t want to stop.

Pallas was gently rolled over onto his back, perpendicular to how he had been before. Two hands gently spread open his shaking thighs. Damen settled between them, lowering himself chest-to-chest with Pallas, careful not to crush him. Then he kissed Pallas, slow and deep. Pallas gave Damen more room, opening his legs wider and wrapping his arms around him. Pallas was still so tired, so beyond any limits he thought his body had, but kissing Damen relaxed him. There was no expectation to it. Damen wasn’t kissing him to get to the next thing, he was just kissing him. The way Damen kissed him was like how you would kiss a lover. Pallas felt like that since they began—a lover. Damen wasn’t treating him like just a pretty hole to fuck, or even someone to use for whatever weird shit those two got up to behind closed doors. Damen was sweet with him, fucked him like he was happy it was him and not someone else. Damen was warm, safe, and strong, and he had focused on Pallas’ pleasure more than his own this entire time. Pallas already came three times. Damen, Pallas realized, had only come once.

They weren’t quite grinding into each other yet, but their hips rolled, every so often, Damen’s erection trapped between them. He still felt so _big,_ and it still intimidated Pallas. But he was starting not to care if Damen split him open with it. Pallas _ached._ Pallas _wanted._ Pallas let go, finally giving himself fully and freely to Damen, who was nosing at his neck and marking him. Damen grabbed his hips and ass, and Pallas made a soft, surprised sound at the back of his throat when Damen put his hand on Pallas’ throat. Damen paused, searching Pallas’ face for any hint of discomfort before continuing. Pallas made the decision for him and brought his hands to Damen’s, and squeezed.

Damen put a little pressure on his throat and hooked one of Pallas’ legs over his free arm, like they had been earlier. “You like that?” Damen asked low and husky. Pallas hardened, hoping Damen could feel it. But just in case, he showed how much he liked it by grabbing behind his own knees and pulling back, opening himself up under Damen’s hips. He tilted his hips back, making the head of Damen’s cock slide over his taint and hole. He must have rubbed himself with more oil before flipping him over, because he was sinfully slick as he thrust.

“You’re just as hungry for it as he was,” Damen said. But it came out fond, a laugh, maybe Damen remembering how it had been. Pallas returned the soft laugh and responded with a kiss. Damen propped himself up a bit and released Pallas’ throat, reaching that hand down to guide himself.

Pallas was not the type to privilege this kind of fucking over others. Fucking was fucking, and it was amazing either way. There was so much people could do with each other, so it felt ridiculous for only one kind to trump the others as the best. But still, that second between the first touch of the head against his hole and the release as Damen finally pushed inside made Pallas’ heart stop, made everything stop. It was one of those moments where there was no going back from it, a barrier erected between _before_ and _after._ He saw himself there, on that bed, with his king between his knees about to claim him, and them both loving every second of it. His king was about to be inside him, and that fact settled in his stomach like a wound, opening him up and gutting him; he was sure that Damen and Laurent and everyone else in the entire kingdom could see inside him, see everything about him, no part left untouched or unexamined. He was more vulnerable than he had ever been, trusting that Damen would keep him safe on the other side of this moment.

And then the moment was over. Damen pushed inside him with a low groan, his own voice crying out in harmony. His eyes wouldn’t close. He couldn’t breathe. Damen didn’t push any further yet, just encouraged Pallas to rest his foot on the back of his thigh and settle back down. Damen cupped his cheek again and asked, “Okay?” and Pallas answered, “Yes.” A shy smile before he surged back down for a kiss and started grinding his hips in shallow thrusts. Pallas felt every single inch as it pushed into him. He didn’t know if this was to let him adjust, or to tease him, but his hole clenched and spasmed either way. Damen worked all of himself inside, and Pallas had never felt so full and stretched as this, so overwhelmed. He was almost amazed that his body wasn’t rejecting the intrusion, but was beyond happy when Damen started thrusting in slow, long strokes, and it didn’t hurt. It felt so good he almost cried from relief. At the end of every thrust in, Damen pushed a little harder. It made Pallas quiver every time, and his breath hitched, strained.

“You don’t have to be quiet, Pallas,” Laurent encouraged, voice uncharacteristically warm and soft. “I know how good Damen is making you feel right now. And I know how hard it is to hold back.”

With that permission, that _admission,_ Pallas keened like a virgin who had never felt the touch of a man before.

“Besides, however lewdly you moan, or loudly you scream, I promise you the guards have heard worse coming from me,” Laurent quipped. “Including that one out there, today.”

Pallas laughed in his next moan, and then Damen was smiling, too. It was all so overwhelming. Laurent was the image of restrained control, and it was hard to think that anything could make him lose that, to let go. And for him to share that with Pallas, even as a joke, made Pallas feel like he was let in on something others seldom got to see.

Damen didn’t let Pallas get used to one rhythm or angle, always changing just as Pallas started drifting away with pleasure. It was maddening, but it made him savor the act and not just the destination. The entire time, Damen kissed him and asked him if he liked what he was doing.

Sometimes, Damen rambled, unchecked. “You feel so good,” he praised, “so tight.”

 _“Ah!,”_ Pallas gasped, “right there,” the word morphing into a cut-off groan. He was being fucked like he never had before, being made love to even though they weren’t in love. He almost felt jealous of Laurent, because if this was how Damen was when fucking casually, Pallas could not imagine how good it felt with someone he was in love with. Damen reached a hand between them and started stroking him into another deep, thick orgasm. He thought it might hurt; how could it not, with how many times he already came? But it was a gentle wave that surged under him without knocking him over. Pallas whined, _“Yes,”_ as the muscles in his lower body clenched and pushed until he spilled over Damen’s hand and ran warm onto his own stomach. Damen kissed him, slowly stroking and fucking him through it, letting Pallas spasm on his cock with each aftershock.

Pallas laid there, catching his breath. Damen brought a finger up to Pallas’ mouth and had him suck it clean, then wiped the rest on the sheets. They held each other, quiet and still, as Pallas came down. Damen was still hard inside him, not yet having come.

But Damen never pulled out.

He sat back on his knees and hoisted Pallas into his lap, with Pallas still laying back sprawled onto the bed like a doll. Pallas screamed when Damen grinded and thrust up into his prostate. Hard. He fist his hands into the bed just to hold on to something. He didn’t know if he was saying anything, if anybody was, but eventually he lost the ability entirely. The only thing in his world was Damen’s cock pistoning inside of him.

Laurent’s voice cut through the haze. “Fuck yourself on him a bit. Roll your hips. _Yes,_ like that,” he instructed. “He likes that.” Pallas did as he was told and the new movements sent shocks through him with every thrust. He looked over at Laurent and managed to get his eyes to focus. He sat cooly in his chair, his long legs crossed. They made eye contact, and neither broke it, even as Pallas continued to do what Laurent said.

Damen muttered a curse and gritted out, “Touch yourself. Come for me.” Pallas wrapped his fingers around himself, sensitive and hot. Damen adjusted his grip, changing the angle a bit to fuck harder into Pallas, which Pallas hadn’t thought possible. Even though Pallas’ vision went white around the edges every time Damen drove into the spot inside him, he kept looking at Laurent, and Laurent kept looking at him. Pallas thought he might actually be hallucinating when he saw a flush creep over Laurent’s face and neck.

“That’s it,” Damen groaned.

“That’s it,” Laurent whispered under his breath.

Pallas came, letting out a noise so debauched and ecstatic that he didn’t realize he made it, hand so loose on his cock that he wasn’t sure he even aided the process. His cock pulsed in time with Damen’s thrusts, splattering his chest and dripping down due to the angle. And still, he and Laurent never stopped looking at each other.

He noticed Laurent breathing a little heavier and saw the masculine bump of his throat jump as he swallowed. “Where did you come, Damen?” he asked, his voice revealing that he was losing whatever control kept him restrained. “Did you pull out and spill onto his stomach? His chest?” He leaned onto an elbow, hand raised and fidgeting. “Did you make him open his mouth for you and take it on his face?”

“All of those,” Damen tried to answer, exerting himself too much to speak many words at a time. “Eventually, but, _ah—f-fuck,”_ he came with a shout. Pallas turned from Laurent back to Damen, who dug his fingers into Pallas’ thighs. He slammed into him once, twice, three times, grinding and twitching as he collapsed over Pallas, body desperately trying to shoot as deep as it could into Pallas’ body. He breathed hot onto Pallas’ face and buried his mouth and nose into Pallas’ neck, the soft blanket of his hair. Pallas ran his palms over Damen’s sweaty back, down to grab his ass, and back up, holding him close. He kissed Damen’s temple, and the skin tasted salty.

Damen kissed him and sat back up, still heaving a bit. “The first time, I wanted to come inside,” he said, looking down where he was still sheathed.

Pallas twitched when he felt a cool, damp cloth move over his stomach. “Of course you did,” Laurent said as he cleaned Pallas’ skin. He looked down at him, eyes inviting and warm. “Can’t get us pregnant, but don’t let that stop you from trying.” Laurent rolled his eyes so only Pallas could see, and Pallas laughed. He hissed a bit when Damen pulled out. Laurent handed the cloth to Damen to wipe himself off, and the rest of Pallas, where he could feel the king’s come start to run down his crack. Damen handed the cloth back to Laurent with a _thanks_ and laid down next to Pallas. He put a hand on Pallas’ stomach and closed his eyes with a contented hum. Pallas looked up at the ceiling and put a hand on Damen’s, the other in his hair.

“How was it?” Damen asked quietly. The unspoken _Are you okay?_ understood between them. All Pallas could do was smile and nod enthusiastically, words and sentences still hard to form. Damen kissed him and said, “Me, too.” Pallas appreciated that Damen held him for a while. The adrenaline and emotions still ran wild through him, and Damen was a grounding presence.

Damen, eventually, rolled onto his back, and said, “And then we just talked for a bit. Got food sent in.” And, almost as if on cue, a knock sounded through the quiet. Laurent answered the door and let the servants bring food in, but not letting them far enough in to see the bed.

Laurent had planned ahead. Somehow, he knew.

Damen got up and helped him bring the trays and bottles to the bed. “You snake,” he said, and they both joined Pallas on the bed.

And so, the three of them shared fruits and cheeses, drinking sweet red wine and cold water infused with orange and lemon. They didn’t say anything to each other, but it wasn’t awkward. It was calm, and nice.

Laurent took a bite from a particularly juicy peach and moaned at the taste. “I love when peaches are in season here. I’ve never had one anywhere else that came close to tasting this good.” He held it out to Damen. The juices ran over Laurent’s fingers when Damen took a bite.

“I know of one that tastes better.”

“Damen, I swear, I don’t know how you’re still able to think of… _that_ …after what you’ve been doing the last couple of hours,” Laurent said, fondly, flushing again. “Thought you would have gotten it out of your system.” Damen winked at Pallas, trying not to look guilty. Pallas couldn’t help but laugh.

Laurent took a drink of wine and leaned back on one hand. “Are you having a good time, Pallas?” he asked.

“Yes, I am, Your Majesty,” Pallas said.

Laurent smiled. “I think we can drop the formalities for tonight. Only Damen’s allowed to call me that when sex is involved,” he teased. “Just Laurent.”

“Alright, Laurent.”

Laurent sat his wine glass onto the tray and leaned back against Damen, eyes shutting when Damen kissed the top of his head. “Perhaps it’s a bit late in the process for this, but why don’t you tell us about yourself.”

Pallas sat cross-legged on the bed across from them and picked at the grapes every so often. He told them about his twin sister who was a renowned performer, traveling across the kingdom. He told them about his first kiss. He was ten years old, and it was with his best friend, a girl. They both thought it was gross. Then, a couple of years later, Pallas became friends with a boy a few years older than him, and he realized why he thought the kiss had been gross: it hadn’t been with another boy.

“The funny thing,” he said, “is that, a few years ago, I saw that first best friend. But she, well, wasn’t living as a woman anymore. He said he went by Lysander now. We celebrated our reunion with food and drink, and then…then I realized again why that kiss had been gross but that I had wanted it anyway. He hadn’t been a boy _yet._ He took me to bed, and we parted ways the next morning.”

He told them about the games he had competed in, the thrill of getting better each time. He and Damen shared stories of their hardest matches, their highest triumphs. All the while, Laurent sat back and watched the two of them.

When the food was eaten and the wine drunk, Laurent said, “How much of the time with your gladiator was spent eating and talking?”

“Well, we had fought earlier in the day, so we _were_ a bit tired even going into it,” Damen said. “I don’t know, maybe two hours? But during that, at some point we took a quick bath and stroked each other off. Wine got a bit to our heads.”

Laurent sat up. “Then off you go.” He pushed Damen’s shoulder, as if to move him. “I’ll clean up.”

* * *

Pallas and Damen came back from their bath relaxed and sated. The water had still been warm from when Damen had bathed earlier, after the feast. They sat in the water, the heat loosening their muscles. They helped each wash, which inevitably turned into touching. It was different without Laurent there. He knew Laurent expected this of them, but Laurent wasn’t there to make sure they did it. He wasn’t there for them to perform for. Damen took him, gentle and sweet, in his arms and stroked him until he whimpered, dirtying the water they stood in.

“Pallas,” Damen said against his skin. “I love the way you sound when you come.”

“Damen,” he said, swiping his thumb over the sensitive head of Damen’s cock. “You’re so…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Damen kissed him and didn’t stop until he came, biting Pallas’ lower lip.

“All clean?” Laurent asked. “You only have two and a half hours left. I’m impressed. Well, you spent two hours _not_ fucking, so maybe not _so_ impressed.”

Damen laughed and threw his arm around Pallas’ waist. They walked to the bed, and all three got back into their earlier positions. Damen sat on the edge of the bed. His legs hung down, thighs splayed and cock draped lazily. Laurent was curled up in the chair with a glass of water and some cheese.

“The gladiator got down on his knees for me and took me into his mouth,” Damen said, picking up where they left off. Pallas walked to the edge to the bed between Damen’s dangling legs and knelt down. After tonight, he didn’t think he would ever be able to kneel for the Exalted again without blushing. He grabbed Damen’s cock and got it hard, pumping and squeezing. Damen moved to grab his hair when Laurent stopped him.

“Do not touch him,” he commanded. “Do not move.”

“But this is what I did with—”

 _“I don’t care,”_ Laurent bit back. Pallas wasn’t sure what to do. “Damen, let him savor you. Don’t you like it when I only use my mouth?”

The two shared a look, something communicated that Pallas could not understand. Damen turned back to him with a small smile and nodded.

Pallas braced himself on Damen’s legs and wrapped his lips around him. He could smell sex and musk. Pallas moaned, already hard from putting Damen’s cock in his mouth. Pallas stretched his lips and opened his jaw as much as he could, and felt like he should win some trophy for eventually getting it all the way in. He sat still with it down his throat and noticed Damen barely thrusting, obvious that he was holding back.

“Pallas, suckle the head for a bit and stick your tongue in the slit,” Laurent said. Damen looked over to him and raised a knowing eyebrow. Laurent shrugged. “You would think he likes to fuck your throat, but taking it in as little as possible is what wrecks him.”

He moved back up and suckled. He snaked his tongue under Damen’s foreskin and against the bottom of the head before wrapping it around and worrying the small hole with the tip of his tongue. Damen fell back and whimpered in such a high pitch that it didn’t sound like it came from him. Every once in a while he slid down and back up, but never enough to give Damen relief. Damen shook under him.

“And when you’ve had enough of that, slide down and fuck him into your throat as slow as you can. He’ll come in no time.”

“Laurent,” Damen whined. “Pallas.”

Pallas pulled off and took a breath, letting drool fall out of his mouth onto Damen. He had come into the Exalted’s mouth, and now the Exalted was going to come into his. He took himself into his own hand at the thought, making sure Damen and Laurent saw. He worked his mouth down, taking him all the way in again. Then, he swallowed, and bobbed his head just enough for friction, slowly. Damen twitched and throbbed in Pallas’ mouth, thighs tensing as he started shooting down his throat with a pathetic groan.

“Pallas, pull off now,” Laurent’s cool voice demanded.

He did, and the rest of Damen’s come spilled on his face, cock twitching in the empty air. Pallas’ tongue darted out when some ran over his upper lip. He imagined that they were on the dais at the games, Pallas kneeling for the king and claiming his reward, as the king’s champion. The fantasy was interrupted when Laurent moved behind him and handed him a clean cloth. “Here,” he said, “I’ll go get us all more water.”

“I should have expected he would do that,” Damen said sitting up. He put his hand under Pallas’ chin and said, “Come up here,” pulling him in for a kiss.

After that, Damen continued to narrate what he did with the gladiator and in turn did it with Pallas. He laid behind him and fucked between his thighs, driving Pallas mad until finally he slipped in. Pallas came with Damen holding his leg up and stroking him, Damen biting his shoulder and stilling seconds after. Pallas reached behind his head to run his fingers through Damen’s hair, and he felt a warmth in his chest when Damen dropped his leg and wrapped an arm around him. “You take me like you were born for it.”

Damen didn’t even soften and sat Pallas up with him, pushing in from behind. At a point, he pulled Pallas up by his hair and twisted an arm behind him, thrusting into and pulling back at the same time. He dropped Pallas down and pushed his head into the bed. He hammered into him but stopped when Pallas bounced his ass on Damen’s cock, letting Pallas bring them both to the edge. As Damen was about to come, he pulled out and flipped Pallas over to come on his stomach and chest. Pallas moaned _fuck_ at the sight and came dry, gritting his teeth, his body pushed to its limits.

When Damen cleaned Pallas off, his hole was still gaping open.

“Damen,” he said, exhausted, “I’m done. I can’t.”

Laurent helped him off the bed and sat him in the chair Laurent had been sitting in, giving him an extra pillow.

“That’s about when the gladiator gave out, too,” Damen said from the bed. “I was relieved. I wasn’t lasting long at all any more. So we talked, and rested, and before he left we got off one more time. He asked to ride me so he could, I quote, keep my dick from going into his stomach. He got on top and it was slow, and perfect. We both finished quickly, and then he was gone.”

“Did you ever see him again?” Pallas asked.

“Every so often. We didn’t go for that long again, but it was nice to take him in and out of the ring.” He took a drink of water. “Pallas, stay as long as you want, if you think you’ll be up for finishing where we left off, or even just to rest. But don’t feel like you have to.”

Pallas nodded, “Thanks. I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Damen smiled at him. “You know, in that story, everyone always talks about my stamina. Nobody ever talks about his.”

“They don’t talk about mine, either,” Laurent added, climbing onto the bed. “They always talk about _you._ Oh, King Damianos bends his Veretian over every chance he gets.” Laurent straddled Damen and sat down in his lap. “They never talk about me getting taken.” Damen grabbed Laurent’s hips, like a reflex. “It isn’t easy, getting fucked. Especially by you,” Laurent said as he pulled his shirt over his head. “You’ll see, one day.”

Damen maneuvered Laurent onto his back, legs still wrapped around Damen’s waist. “Is that right?” And then they were lost to each other. Pallas sat and watched as Damen began to make love to Laurent. He kissed Laurent in places that made him inhale sharply and say, “That feels…oh, _Damen.”_

Laurent kicked his pants off, finally as naked as Damen and Pallas. Pallas flushed when he saw Laurent’s arousal. The two kings smiled as they made love, still just pleasuring each other soft touches and sweet words. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Laurent asked right when Damen took a nipple between his teeth. Laurent gasped out, “Did he make you feel good?”

Damen moved back up to Laurent’s mouth, kissing him so thoroughly it made Pallas hot to watch. “Not as good as you,” Damen said, looking Laurent in the eyes. Then, softer, “It’s never been like it is with you.”

Laurent whispered something to Damen then, reaching a hand between them, and Damen groaned. Pallas couldn’t quite hear what was said, but it sounded like, “Make love to me, Damen. I need you inside me.”

It was all too tender, too intense, too intimate. It felt wrong to see Laurent like this. Pallas was an intruder, witnessing something that nobody else should see. He got up to leave, not worrying about what he might do about his clothes, since it was perfectly acceptable to be nude in this region. But before he got to the door, Laurent called from the bed, “Pallas. Don’t go.” Pallas stilled, and turned. “Please. You—you don’t have to leave. We don’t want you to leave, if you’re willing to stay.”

Pallas could not deny that it turned him on to watch them. Even when he was uncomfortable because it was _King Laurent_ being made love to in front of him, just knowing what it was like to be on the receiving end of Damen’s attentions made his pulse race.

Laurent’s eyes followed him as he made his way back and sat in the chair. “Thank you,” he said, and it was genuine.

So, Pallas sat and watched them. The way they made love to each other was achingly tender and loving, but still very clearly _fucking._ Laurent had his head hanging off the edge of the bed when Damen pushed his cock into him, one leg hoisted up onto Damen’s shoulders. Damen didn’t make a sound during the slow slide, instead trembling as his breath caught. Pallas watched the way Damen’s muscles flexed with every thrust, every roll, every grind. The candlelight in the room made the sweat on his back glisten, making even the scars look softer. Laurent wasn’t very vocal, but when he did moan, or gasp, or keen, Damen smiled, a few times saying, “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go.”

Damen never sped up or went harder. He kept the steady fucking that Laurent seemed to like. So it surprised Pallas when Damen’s name fell from Laurent’s lips as he tensed and spilled between them, head still hanging off the bed, back arched and hands tight in the sheets. Pallas didn’t find Laurent attractive except objectively, but he was captivated at the sight of Laurent coming on Damen’s cock, flushed and fucked and ecstatic. He was so beautiful it was painful, and it reminded Pallas of a particular Akielon ballad. Pallas wondered if he had been so beautiful when Damen made him come. And when Damen came inside Laurent, it looked like a man coming home after years and years away.

They kissed some more, and held each other. Damen rolled Laurent onto his stomach, and Pallas' stomach dropped when the Exalted dropped his face to King Laurent's ass and licked his hole. Laurent cursed into the bedding and slowly fucked himself on Damen’s tongue. He turned his head away from Pallas, perhaps remembering he was there and not wanting him to see Damen do this to him.

Damen made love to Laurent a few more times, harder, trying to outrun the diminishing time he could keep himself from coming. He made Laurent come as many times as he could to the point where it was almost unfair. To Pallas, Laurent seemed helpless against it, but he doubted Laurent was ever truly helpless against anything, even Damianos. Maybe it was only the Exalted that he trusted enough to surrender to.

At some point, Pallas got hard and started stroking himself.

Laurent fucked Damen’s mouth, the expression on his face blissful torture. He was gritting his teeth, overly sensitive, but still needing Damen to give him this last thing. He looked over, and his expression changed when he saw Pallas. His hips slowed, and Pallas’ hand slowed, too.

Raw, Laurent said, “Join us.”

Unsure, Pallas got on the bed.

Laurent pulled out of Damen’s mouth. “Damen, get on your back.” The three of them paused after Damen moved, the tension thick. “Pallas,” said Laurent, breaking the silence. “Ride him?”

Pallas and Laurent looked at each other when Pallas slid down Damen’s cock, and Laurent matched the pace when he fucked his own into Damen’s throat.

They both moved at the same time, the same pace, an understanding between them as Damen pleasured their bodies. _Yes, he really does make you feel that good._ They moaned at the same time, hips rolling dirtier as they started the climb to their climaxes. They leaned over and grabbed each other by the back of the neck, foreheads touching. It wasn’t a romantic gesture. It was just shared, two people holding on, finally having support as Damen pushed them further and further.

Pallas and Laurent came at the same time, hands cradling the back of each other’s head and grabbing the hair there as every muscle in their bodies tightened.

They pulled back a little and looked at each other, knowing that their eyes said _Okay? Okay._

Pallas rose off Damen, and Laurent removed his cock from Damen’s mouth. A silent agreement between the three of them, Pallas and Laurent kissing Damen as he fucked into his own hand. He threw his head back and came.

And then, it was over. They caught their breaths, came down, cleaned off. Laurent extended the offer for Pallas to stay. “My rooms are connected and obviously I’m not using them.” But Pallas turned them down. “No, I should get home. I don’t want Lazar to worry.”

Damen gave him a final kiss, and Pallas walked out.

* * *

“Mmmph, babe,” Lazar groaned when Pallas climbed into bed. “You’re home late.”

“Sorry,” Pallas apologized with a kiss. “You will not _believe_ the night I’ve had.” Pallas told Lazar every detail, watching the arousal take Lazar. The only thing he left out was the times he and Laurent stared at each other, especially the last time.

Lazar grabbed his ass and worked a finger against his hole. “You’re so puffy and loose,” he said, voice tight, hardness pushing into Pallas’ hip.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to come again for three days,” Pallas said, removing Lazar’s hand. “I don’t know how King Laurent does it.”

“Well,” Lazar said, and he rolled Pallas on his side so Lazar could tuck up behind him, “I guess I’ll just have to get off for the both of us.” He slid his cock between the firm mounds of Pallas’ ass. “And you’re not the only one who likes being watched.” Lazar continued like that, moaning and cursing in both their languages, until he came hot and messy on Pallas’ lower back. It was filthy, but Pallas would not have it any other way. No matter what he got up to with other people, he always came back to Lazar’s bed at the end of the day. Pallas drifted off to sleep with Lazar’s arm tight around him.

* * *

The next morning, Pallas got up bright and early to practice. Today, Nikandros offered to spar with him. The two men clashed against each other, slipping out of any holds the other tried on them. It felt good, the exertion, the strategy, the concentration. Pallas had Nikandros down on the ground, knee lodged into his back. He was sure Nikandros would yield to him at any moment.

At that moment, Pallas looked up and saw King Damianos and King Laurent walk by. Laurent looked over at Pallas as Damen kept talking.

Pallas froze for less than a second, but it was enough for Nikandros to get out of his grip and flip them. He pinned Pallas down, and it was a hold Pallas knew he couldn’t get out of.

He looked back at Laurent. He didn’t say anything.

Laurent smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you leave a comment and I don't get to it right away, know that I saw it, went ",,,,cömmèntę?" in my head like that "pakige?" post, and love you very much. You can find me on tumblr at thatgothlibrarian.


End file.
